


eclipse

by RosaNautica



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, M/M, post Brazil 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21521347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaNautica/pseuds/RosaNautica
Summary: "Will you still love me when I'll stop winning?"or Seb and Christian throughout the years
Relationships: Christian Horner/Sebastian Vettel
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	eclipse

**Author's Note:**

> Huge shout-out and infinite thanks go to **Charona** for the concrit, without which I wouldn't be too happy with this work.  
Thank you, dear! <3 Hope you like the scenery better^^

“It’s not about hard driving, free racing, I am all for it.”

“Oh, you are telling _me_?! You are all for it when it’s you who should step back.” Half-sat on the armrest of the sofa, Christian watched his former driver pacing around the room.

“Hey!”

“Don’t _hey_ me, I had the pleasure of dealing with you and your opinions on team orders for a couple of years, if you remember.”

“Ahem.”

“So, you were saying?”

“Yeah… it’s not that. It is that he acts like he’s on the warpath – and he has no respect! He has no respect at all,” he repeated under his breath, and Christian couldn’t resist one more “what goes around” nag.

“Makes me wonder: would you have had more respect for Mark if he was four times world champion?”

Seb stopped in his tracks, suddenly lost; he ran a hand over his hair, an uneasy tic, moved his jaw, then just bit his lip in surrender. Christian walked up to him and took him by the braced shoulders.

“That’s how it goes when you are young and driven. I know it’s easy to say, but don’t let it get to you.” He felt Seb relax under the touch and brought him closer, pressing their foreheads together.

“Yeah… I know. It’s just a bit too much altogether.” It was obvious that the collision was only the tip of the iceberg, and the core of all Seb’s problems was somewhere under the turbid waters, where Christian hadn’t plunged himself yet and he wasn’t sure if the effort would be appreciated at all. Seb was tricky, when it came to sharing his deepest state of mind. On one hand, he was an open book, with those huge, expressive eyes; he never even tried to hide his feelings, knowing he was destined to fail, and quite straightforwardly asked for comfort, if he needed any. But he would keep his thoughts, ideas, reasonings to himself, and Christian had learnt not to pry and just be there.

However, he knew how easily Seb cracked under pressure, always ready to bring himself down, and he could clearly imagine the self-deprecation twirling in his head.

Seb took a shaky breath and a minute of silence for his vanished hopes.

“How do dreams turn into nightmares without you even noticing?”

Any answer would be empty, so Christian kissed him, instead. A long, tender peck, fingers tangled in ever messy locks, thumb stroking the stubble on Seb’s cheek.

“When is your flight?”

“I’ve got some two hours for you.”

Seb nodded slowly, attempted a smile; he didn’t want to look ungrateful. Christian enveloped him in a proper embrace.

“You should be celebrating with the guys.”

“I’m pretty sure they don’t need me there, and I’ve seen enough of them over the weekend, don’t worry. This is more important now.” He pulled back a little to brush their lips together, a tentative touch of sensuality, and Seb pressed up against him.

“This is fucked up, though.”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to be fighting me, not picking me up.”

“We are fighting the Mercs – and the McLarens, now, apparently; we are fighting Leclerc. With you, it has only ever been competing. And in the end, it’s all just cars running around. What will always matter more is you. I promised you something, and I stick to my word.”

“Remind me, which one?” Seb snorted fondly, but Christian couldn’t unhear the dissonant stroke of bitterness. True, he had made a bunch of promises over the years and hadn’t lived up to many of them.

_Yet_.

“The first one,” he muttered against Seb’s neck and felt the tendons tense under his lips. _The one I prayed I would never have to keep_.

The 2013 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix wasn’t only memorable for the partial solar eclipse. His seventh win in a row put Seb alongside Alberto Ascari and his own childhood hero, and as sensational as it was, as invincible and special as he felt, a doubt filled the strange void in the middle of all his happiness, while he lied tangled in sweaty bedsheets, head on Christian’s chest bubbling with laughter.

_“Sebastian Vettel, you keep making history! I am so damn proud of you…”_

_“Yeah… One day all the history will be made, though.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“This won’t last forever, will it? Whoosh, all the Vettel magic will be gone, and what’s going to be left of me?”_

_“**You**. Seb, have you seen the sun today?”_

_“Uhm… I was kinda trying **not** to look into it, you know – we go a bit too fast for that kind of romantics… But yeah, I know. It was eclipsed.”_

_“And it was still there. Shining, warm, still the same sun. You see?”_

_“So… you will still love me when I’ll stop winning?”_

_“I will love you more – because you’ll need it. I swear to you, Seb. You’ll always be my golden boy.”_

Seb foresaw his future on that glorious champagne-soaked night.

Australia was a disastrous start for the whole team, not just for him, but none of it was his fault.

Sepang didn’t let him down and for a while, up on the podium and down under Christian, it felt as though he was still at it.

Bahrain was understandable: with his DRS broken, it was a reasonable call.

But in China he was shown where his place was. He didn’t like the place at all.

_“**Again**.”_

_“I could say the same.”_

_“What? I did it, I did let him through!”_

_“I noticed, thank you.”_

_“Well, I had the right to at least know why, didn’t I?”_

_“Theoretically… no. But of course I’d told you. Just don’t make a fuss of it. This time it was you, next time it will be Daniel.”_

_“Oh, will it?”_

_“Has anyone written you off? We are four races into the season, Seb.”_

_“And I want it to be over.”_

_“Well, in that case I am sorry for you. **Tough luck…** Could you at least pretend you care for the constructors’?”_

_“That’s all?”_

_“If you want anything else, I need you to do better than this.”_

_“Then let me race! And give me **a** **car**. Not this shitbox.”_

_“Daniel is doing well in that shitbox, from what I’ve seen. We are working on it, Seb, but for now the car is what you have. You’ll have to find a feeling with it.”_

Knitted eyebrows, lips pursed stubbornly – he saw it coming before the German even opened his mouth. Still, it felt like a punch in the face:

_“You could spare me that bullshit in Abu Dhabi, though.”_

_“What on earth does that have to do with-”_

_“You are treating me like a-“_

_“Like any other driver – I **can’t** do otherwise! But that doesn’t mean we-”_

_“I am **not** any other driver.”_

_“No, you’re not. You are outstandingly bratty. Sorry to break it to you, but your titles haven’t won you a number one status for life, you still got to fight for your place here. So get up and fight, or accept your new reality. Or go. I don’t have any more options for you.”_ He was addressing half of the speech to Sebastian’s retreating back.

Of course, he would choose the latter. _For both of us_, he said. In all honesty, Christian was relieved. He got rid of a fierce conflict of interest. It was much easier on his sanity to face Seb as an opponent than to handle him as his own driver.

They gradually got back to their understanding without words instead of misunderstandings with them, back to their heart-stopping passion on stolen nights; Seb was exploding with joy and however it might sting deep inside, as Christian kept asking himself what went wrong and what they (read: he) failed to give him, he was nevertheless happy to see him like that again, to feed off Seb’s positivity, because that’s what he’d been doing ever since the beginning and Seb didn’t mind, as long as he was getting his share back: solidity, certainty, safe knowledge that no matter what, he would always come first. (Not just in bed, although Christian tended to make sure of that as well.)

And while their respective troubles had them drifting apart at times, Seb too caught up in his struggles, Christian in their line-up questions, at some point they would always end up together. Sharing a soothing silence, rediscovering the ways of making love that didn’t remind in the slightest of their past escapades, both having somewhat calmed down; discussing racing, life and, occasionally, Christian’s famous promises and their stakes…

“You’re still my golden boy, Sebby,” he whispered, gently laying his lover down on the bed.

Pure gold is too soft to be used for crafting, and once you alloy it to give it strength, it inevitably tarnishes with time. Yet, despite patina dulling the lustre, its value stays the same. Not 24 carats, but still gold. Nowhere near perfect, but still _his_ _Seb_.

Who exhaled, covering up a quiet sob, and finally kissed him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Just for the mood, here are [the Abu Dhabi 2013 romantics](http://i.imgur.com/eKxzy67.jpg) and [Seb's "tough luck" team radio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_1NsndBBRFU).
> 
> Hope you enjoyed^^
> 
> (and darn, I keep forgetting this: just in case, I am _rosygoldendawn_ on tumblr)


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